


My Fair Queen

by VSSAKJ



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 06:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10781349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VSSAKJ/pseuds/VSSAKJ
Summary: After performing in the glorious stage play "Cheri White", Hubert finds himself beset by complicated feelings. Malik helps him to address them.





	My Fair Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Magnolia Bloom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771731) by [Windian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windian/pseuds/Windian). 



> This fic makes a few direct references to the linked 'inspired by' work, so please read it first! Thanks to Nina for writing something so inspiring and letting me run with my idea. If you have not had the pleasure of experiencing "Cheri White" firsthand, here is a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mS6KUvns5g

“Old burlap and the dreams of children seem to suit you, Hubert.”

Hubert jumped, clutching at the sateen purple fabric swathing his chest. Cheeks warming, he looked away from Malik’s reflection in the glass and muttered, “I see you’ve found time to divest yourself of yours. I was about to do the same.”

Malik chuckled, holding up his right hand and flexing it loosely. “It wasn’t much of a costume.”

“Hm.” Hubert’s response was a noncommittal noise, as he refocused his attention on the mirror’s image. He brushed his hand along the weight of the skirt, turning slightly in the mirror and casting a critical gaze at his costume. “It really isn’t very well made. I don’t know a woman alive who’d be caught dead wearing this.”

Malik shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against a wooden pillar. “No accounting for taste. I know a few women who might like it.”

“You,” Hubert rounded on him, straightening to his full height, “Seem to know someone for just about everything.”

Malik chuckled. “That’s what happens when you get old.”

“Idiot.” Hubert scoffed under his breath, turning his back on Malik and crossing his arms in kind. The movement of the fabric on his chest distracted him—of course he didn’t have breasts, nor would he ever want to, but the way the fabric motioned… He shook his head, fingers curling into the hem on the sleeve of the dress.

After the silence had hung for several moments, Malik spoke again, softer this time, “I came looking for you because I was worried. Everyone else has turned in for the night.”

“Thank you for your concern.” Hubert felt the words roll out of his mouth like lines on a script. “But it isn’t warranted. I’m an adult.”

“So talk to me, man to man.” Malik unfolded his arms and stepped closer, frowning when Hubert flinched. “What’s going on?”

Hubert’s nose was filled with the scent of magnolias. He wrinkled it, frowning to one side. The hem of the skirt trailed over his bare feet; he could see his discarded military-issue boots out of the corner of his eye. He shut his eyes against them and instead saw memories of Asbel and Raymond, feeling the sting of Aston and Garrett’s disappointments. The words came out low and careful. “Captain, you’ve known people all over the world, correct?”

Malik made a confirming sound, so Hubert went on, stumbling between the words, “Have you… ever known a man to… behave womanly… with…” Hubert felt his face growing redder and redder, as he sank his fingers into the fabric of the dress.

Malik’s expression flickered, then he smiled, placing his hands on Hubert’s shoulders; Hubert jumped, but did not pull away. “Another man? Yeah, that happens. Nothing wrong with it.”

Hubert shuddered at the words, digging his nails into his thighs through the fabric. His knuckles burned with phantom pain, his stomach twisting around itself. “When we were younger, Asbel and I played knights in the garden.” The whisper was painful: it was a secret he’d only confided in one other person. “After I was sent to Strahta… my cousin Raymond said we needed to practice for when we had wives some day. So they wouldn’t be disgusted by our ‘lack of romantic gentility’. I…”

Malik began to rub his thumbs in circles on Hubert’s shoulders, where the muscles were knotted with tension. He didn’t interrupt; his expression in the mirror’s reflection was relaxed, even serene.

Hubert finally looked up again, scrutinizing Malik’s reactions in the mirror. Now he spoke faster, the words rough and harsh. “Aston and Garrett both punished me for it. Asbel was _spoken to_ , Raymond was _spoken to_. I was reprimanded. I was held accountable. As though there’s—” Hubert suddenly cut himself off, swallowing thickly around the sensation of sickness.

“Hubert.” Malik’s voice was a low and warm as Hubert had ever heard before. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Of course not.” Hubert retorted, voice growing louder and higher in pitch. “That’s why Aston sent me away, and why Garrett—” Hubert trailed off into a wordless sound as Malik pressed his lips to the skin behind Hubert ear. Glowing red, Hubert whirled around to face Malik and demanded, “What was that!?”

“Just a kiss, Hubert.” Malik replied, resting his hands on top of Hubert’s shoulders. “Anything wrong with that?”

Hubert opened his mouth, then shut it, then turned his back again and shrank towards the mirror, digging his fingers into the fabric of the dress again. “Captain, this is not helpful.”

“Why not?” It was a gentle challenge; Malik moved no nearer and no farther, expression still neutral and reasonable.

“It’s… improper.”

“Hmm, it may be that.” Malik cocked his head to one side and ran a hand down the sleeve of Hubert’s dress; Hubert shivered again. “But it may not be. It’s for you to decide what’s right for you.”

“What is that supposed to mean… ?” Hubert meant for the words to come out scornful, but instead they sounded hopeful, like a small seed planted in him long ago was finally sensing the sun’s warmth upon the soil.

“You just tell me when something’s all right and when something isn’t.” Malik murmured, running his lips along the ridge of Hubert’s ear. There was nothing to hold onto but the frame of the mirror, so Hubert seized it tightly, as more shivers thundered through him.

Malik’s fingers trailed down his arms and up his sides, catching on the silky fabric. Hubert hadn’t imagined someone with such brawny hands would have such a delicate touch—not that he’d imagined anything of this sort before, of course. There had never been a part of him that observed Raymond flirting with girls and wondered what it might feel like; there had never been a part of him that imagined other men’s touches, in the dark of night, when no one else could know.

It took him a moment to realise he’d pressed himself flush against Malik’s body, and when he opened his eyes, he saw himself red-faced and breathless in the mirror. Blushing harder, Hubert leaned into the mirror so his glasses went askew; he thought that seeing nothing but the blurred shapes of discarded props and old costumes would ease his embarrassment, but instead he found himself more conscious than ever of his body’s responses to Malik’s attention.

Malik’s hands paused in place on Hubert’s hips and Hubert heard himself exhale heavily before he reached down with one of his own hands to direct one of Malik’s to his growing erection. Malik, breath hot on Hubert’s ear, took the hint and began running his fingers down the length of Hubert’s cock. Hubert bit his lower lip; his underwear was distancing the feel of Malik’s touch, and the fabric of the dress had been so cool and slick between Malik’s hands and the rest of his body.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Hubert heard the words without having intended to speak, and clutched for the waist of his underpants through the fabric of the dress. Malik chuckled against his back, the vibrations of the sound making Hubert shudder all the more. Suddenly his tongue became unstuck and words tumbled from him unintentionally, as he pressed himself into the mirror like he would pass through it. “And this isn’t strange to you at all, a man in a dress, a man being a woman to you, it’s something you’ve done before, is it?”

“Hubert.” Malik rumbled, finishing the motion of sliding Hubert’s penis free of his undergarments and making Hubert gasp as he held it firmly. “It isn’t about being a man or a woman. It’s about being yourself.”

Hubert exhaled a series of short, high gasps before he managed to form words. “That’s easy for you to say. If I wasn’t dressed this way, would you even be interested?”

“You can take it off.” Malik suggested, circling the tip of Hubert’s cock with his thumb as he spoke.

“No.” That response came without thought. Hubert reddened again but also pushed back against Malik’s raised penis with his ass. There was something… “I like it.”

“That’s a good boy.” Malik sighed deeply, tightening his fingers around Hubert’s cock. Hubert heard himself moan loudly and felt his body respond to the noise, heat pooling at the base of his cock. He’d never… Nothing had ever felt as good as this before. He felt the fabric of the dress going wet at the tip of his penis, where Malik’s hand was gripping and stroking without pause. He felt his hips rocking back against Malik’s body, needy in a way he’d never been able to define before now. He felt the wood grain of the mirror against his palms, and the glass warming against his cheek. He smelled magnolias and, for a moment, he didn’t feel ashamed.

Hubert cried out as cum spurted into the dress, flattening himself against the mirror and feeling Malik flatten against him, too. The wetness spread quickly and when he found his voice, all he could murmur was, “Captain…”

“Hmm.” Malik responded, moving his hands back to Hubert’s hips as he slowly eased the rocking of his own. He gave a comfortable exhale, adding, “See? That’s all right.”

Trying to stifle his delight, Hubert said only, “It’s improper, but yes… I suppose it is. All right.”


End file.
